Who Knew
by 9nlyAFewTriggers
Summary: You were going to propose. Who knew he would be stolen away before you had the chance?


**((Yeah this still isn't Pieces. I've had huge writer's block lately and this drabble that was requested was just enough to maybe help me get over it. **

**Enjoy.))**

* * *

You still remember those perfectly green eyes. The small curve of his lips, his high cheekbones. How his expression would become visibly brighter when you told him how beautiful he was, and how he would counter your compliment with a mumble and a blush.

You also remember the first time you made him smile.

It was a rainy day, and you two had been dating for two months. He told you to come over, because he was lonely and also, quite frankly, needy. But you didn't mind.

Once you arrived you two spent a few hours watching movies, cuddling, telling cheesy puns, but mostly cuddling. You kissed his cheek, his jaw, the nape of his neck. Although his face as well as his neck heated up, his lips stayed perfectly straight and you groaned at him.

"Really?" you had sighed out against his shoulder, your eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" he had snapped back.

"Why won't you fucking smile?"

He has pursed his beautifully shaped lips, before shrugging. "Dunno. There isn't really a reason to."

You remember that his words stung, but that didn't stop you.

"There isn't?"

"Well, I mean, no, not really. If you ask me the world is shit and we'd all be better off d-"

He didn't get to finish though, because you had him pinned to the couch in a matter of seconds. You were seething, your eyebrows furrowed and your breathing heavy. His eyes had widened, you remember.

"Uh, Sol, I know I'm irresistible b-"

"You wanna know why you should smile? Because you're _alive_. That's why I smile. You're alive. You're here to brighten my day, send me messages when I need them, cheer me up or snap me or of my mood and make me realize what an idiot I am. You should smile because you're beautiful, gorgeous, adorable and, yes, irresistible. I love your hair, your smile, your eyes, your stupid scarves, the small curve of your hips and the way you blush whenever I make some inappropriate sex joke. I love all of those things and, one day, I know I'll be able to love you too."

He just stared. You remember seeing shock in his eyes, yet how they lit up at the same time.

A few moments later, the most beautiful, perfect smile you had ever seen settled on his face.

You remember that, and you also remember the day he lost his virginity to you.

It was also the first time you told him you loved him.

It had been two years. You both realized that the sexual tension was far too much to bear, so he decided that since you "_obviously_ won't do anythin' because you're a careful mincy little prick" he would have to make the first move.

You came home to a darkened apartment, your boyfriend nowhere in sight. You had called his names several times, and after a few minutes someone tapped your back and you turned, only to be greeted with a pair of warm lips.

The rest is a blur in your mind, but also very vivid. You remember his groans, his pants, his little mewls and whimpers.

You also remember how, when you were done, you held him close against your chest and whispered, "I love you," and he whispered it right back.

The memory most clear in your mind, though, was the day he went missing.

It had been four years at that point, almost five. You were ready to marry this man, the love of your life. No one could stop you. You were proposing.

You remember it clearly - you tucked the small, purple, velvet box in your jeans pocket. You would have worn a hoodie so it was easier to hide, but he still had yours after borrowing it approximately three months ago. "I like big tops," he had explained when you caught him wearing it. "And it smells like you."

You had called from work saying that you were coming home soon, like you did every day, and he said he had to go get some things so he wouldn't be there when you arrived.

You had gone home. You had waited. You went to sleep, and you woke up the next day.

And waited.

You waited for two weeks, not crying once. You weren't sure why you didn't cry, but when you got a call saying they found his body by a pond, you remember screaming at the caller, and racing down to said pond in your car, basically attacking the police officers that tried to hold you back from grabbing his hand.

His hand, which was the only thing resting on the shore. The rest of his body was submerged, and you saw a piece of his blue scarf floating on the surface, the only thing visible around the red stained water.

A few moments later, you saw your hoodie, bloodied and thrown aside a few feet away.

You didn't attend his funeral. You didn't talk to anyone for months. Not even your best friend.

About a year later you finally visited his grave. You set a bouquet by the head stone, fell to your knees and cried.

You ended up visiting him twice every month for two years, going through the same process each time.

Though three months ago you stopped crying. You wanted to, oh, God, you wanted to. But you didn't. You fell to your knees and instead of sobbing your eyes out, you talked to him. You told him stories, whether they were real or fictional. You kept him updated on all of the new episodes of Doctor Who, being so enthusiastic about it you half expected him to tell you to calm down. You also sang to him, which you know he always loved, and before you left you told him you loved him.

Today, you're sitting in front of his grave, the ground around you covered in snow, explaining how the weeping angels were back, when snowflakes start to softly fall around you. You glance up, a few landing on your face, and you just look around for a few minutes before shivering.

"Hey, I'm going to go for today. I love being here but I can't afford to get sick, y'know? Got work and shit, unfortunately," you whisper, but you don't leave yet, trying to think of a song to say goodbye with.

Finally, his favourite song suddenly gets lodged into your mind.

You clear your throat, and then start to sing quietly.

"If someone said three years from now,

You'd be long gone.

I'd stand up and punch them out,

'Cuz they're all wrong and,

That last kiss, I'll cherish, until we meet again.

And time makes it harder,

I wish I could remember.

But I keep your memory,

You visit me in my sleep.

My darling… who knew?"

You stand up, placing a gentle kiss against the cold stone in front of you.

"I love you, Eridan."

And with that, you turn and walk away, adjusting the ring with a small purple gem that forever stays on your finger.


End file.
